


Treats

by robotboy



Series: Butterscotch [4]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deaf Character, Ficlet, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16786432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotboy/pseuds/robotboy
Summary: What happens to Betsy: a little tiny fluff set right after Glazed.





	Treats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellel/gifts).



> Requested by [ellel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellel).

Flint’s phone flashes with about the hundredth message from Silver that day.

_about to get off bus_

_be there in 10_

Flint texts back a thumbs-up. From this morning’s _new job at queens!_ to _guys are cool i’m moving, waiting for the bus with my stuff_ half an hour ago, the day has been a second-hand whirlwind. The guy who took six months to say _I love you_ and still hasn’t really talked about his life before Flint just managed to secure a new job and move house in under six hours.

In ten minutes the doorbell flashes, and Flint heads downstairs to help. He opens the door to find Silver juggling a laundry basket of clothes with a milk crate of books balanced on it, and in his other hand, a pet carrier.

Flint blinks at the carrier, and green eyes that are probably as wide as his stare back.

 _You never said you had a cat!_ he tells Silver.

Silver shoves the laundry basket into Flint’s arms. _Not mine,_ he says with his free hand.

Flint gapes at him, unable to reply while he’s got the basket. He props the front door open for Silver and Silver lugs the carrier upstairs, Flint following behind him. He drills a thousand questions into Silver’s back: where did you get it? Are we going to keep it? Does it have a litterbox? Is spontaneously bringing cats home a thing you do that you never told me about?

Silver sets the carrier down in the lounge and Flint leaves the basket by the stairs. He approaches as Silver crouches in front of the carrier. He takes a treat out of his pocket, offering it through the bars. He’s making kissy-faces, probably sweet-talking the creature.

 _Where did you find it?_ Flint asks, kneeling to peer into the carrier.

 _She’s my roommate’s,_ Silver explains. He hands Flint a treat. Flint pokes it through the bars and she sniffs before taking it. _Her name is Betsy. She’s on loan._

She’s a pretty little tabby, licking Flint’s fingers curiously. Silver carefully unlocks the carrier, and she goes rocketing out into Silver’s arms. Silver cringes as she claws her way onto his chest, letting him know how little she enjoyed her journey. Still, she’s not hiding under the couch, which is better than Flint might have expected.

 _Why did you borrow a cat? Is she going to help you settle in?_ Flint asks. He reaches into Silver’s pocket and takes another treat. She nibbles it delicately, clinging to Silver while she gets a good look at Flint and her surroundings.

 _I’m already settled in!_ Silver assures him. He strokes Betsy as she clambers up to his shoulder to get a better view. _She knows a trick I wanted to show you._

 _What’s the trick?_ Flint offers his hand to sniff, and she rubs her chin on his knuckles. He smiles.

 _Give her a minute,_ Silver says. _She has to warm up_.

Silver closes the door and sits on the couch. Flint flops next to him, and Silver turns on the television. Betsy does a thorough investigation of the room while they cosy up together, Flint watching the cat more than the screen. Eventually she patrols along the back of the couch, veering sideways when she’s behind them. One paw lands heavily on Flint’s shoulder, then his chest, and she crawls down into their laps, curling up there. Her ears flick and Flint gently scratches behind them. She shoves vigorously back against his touch, while Silver’s hands comb through the silky fur on her back. If Flint could bear to free his hands right now he’d ask if Silver was _sure_ she has to be returned. He reasons that if they had a cat, it would be just like this, and they’d never take their hands off her long enough to have a conversation.

He nuzzles Silver’s neck, and Silver curls inward to Flint. It takes some work to do so without disturbing Betsy, but Silver’s hands are broad and confident keeping her sprawled across their thighs. Flint stops scratching Betsy’s ears long enough to tell Silver:

 _Congratulations on the new job._ He steals a quick kiss from Silver. Silver chases for another, nose bumping into Flint’s, face crinkled into a smile. Flint reaches out and unties his hair, letting it fall loose around his shoulders. Silver shakes it out a little, eyes shut as Flint admires him. Silver draws a deep, drowsy breath, still petting Betsy between them.

Flint is almost dozing himself when Silver stiffens slightly. He adjusts his weight, sitting up a bit, looking down at the cat. Flint stares at her, and then at Silver’s excited face.

 _What?_ he asks. Silver gets his hands under Betsy and lifts her up. She hangs like a ragdoll until Silver drapes her across his own shoulder and Flint’s, like a pillow between them. He pets her until she settles there, tucking her paws away tidily and hooking her tail around herself. Silver then reaches across, his eyes twinkling, and guides Flint’s head down to rest on her body.

She’s warm and soft, and Flint darts a pleased but quizzical smile at Silver. Silver still looks expectant, not letting Flint lift his head away. Flint relaxes, resting on her more solidly. Then he feels it: a thrumming vibration under her fur. She’s purring for him.

Silver recognises the moment Flint notices. _You said you missed it,_ Silver reminds him.

Flint presses closer, concentrating. He can’t tell if it’s sound or movement, but it’s there, that rhythmic rise and fall in her chest.

 _Is it loud?_ he asks Silver, careful not to jostle her.

Silver laughs. _It’s_ _so_ _loud,_ he says. _She’s an aeroplane made of fur._

Flint closes his eyes, focusing on it. Silver’s hand shifts from petting Betsy’s ears to touching Flint, trailing over his temples and carding through his hair. Just for now, Flint can’t say anything.

There’s big things they haven’t talked about. Really big things that neither of them are any good at. But Silver’s good at the little things. At remembering what Flint told him in passing at one in the morning, about missing the sound of a cat purring. And there it is.

He opens his eyes, and they’re a little damp at the corners. Silver’s are shining too, and he rolls them as he blinks it away.

 _Did I do alright?_ he asks, lowering his ear to Betsy so they’re nose-to-nose. She must be getting squashed, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

Flint traces his thumb over Silver’s cheek. _Yeah,_ he says. _You did great._

Betsy finally shifts, and to all appearances is still asleep as she oozes back down into a puddle of tabby in their laps.

 _There’s something I forgot to say,_ Flint tells him. Silver tilts his head, lining his face up to mirror Flint’s. _Welcome home._


End file.
